Part one here.
Nuevo Laredo was much larger, prettier than she had imagined. She looked around and thought of the grubby border towns her late husband had told her about from his California days in the 60's and 70's. "Mike, what a difference a decade or ten makes," she thought to herself, imagining him giving her the look at her sarcasm. Jake looked around and said, "Whoa! Somehow I imagined a different Country would look different. I mean, other than some of signs in Spanish, this looks exactly like the other side of the bridge." She grinned at him, "No Jake, we haven't left the planet or anything."
The first order of business would be getting rid of these clothes, and dressing down. No reason to look ripe for the pickings on their journey. Then to off this vehicle and get something with a Mexican license plate, something more durable. She had read enough ex-pat stories by her friends to understand that rural Mexican roads could be brutal, especially after a rain, where they were going. Man, this was seriously going to tap out the cash on hand.
The big question. To head directly south, by the somewhat safer coastal "touristy" route and try and find a way to Costa Rica, or to lay over for a while with her friends in El Rebalsito? It was out of the way, for certain, but to visit Mexico and not see Tenacatita's beaches and her beloved friends there seemed a crime of its own.
Its not like flying without a plan was new to her, its how she vacationed. Real life, however, required planning and back up contingency plans for her. This was as real as it got. She had seen the maps, drug cartels were real; so were the possibilities of of run ins with the Police. "May I pay the fine here sir?" She knew the drill. Hopefully, she could pull one more SS check out when it hit, before they froze her accounts. "How the hell do I do that?" she thought, "Will my ATM card work here?" The money was due in today.
She bought a map at a petrol station, and tried to remember what she had seen. The safest route seemed through the middle, mountainous territory it appeared. Huge cities gave her hives anyway, and she knew she needed to avoid Mexico City like the plague. For now? It looked like 85 South was it, then 54 the rest of the way. "Ok, two roads, I've got this," she tried to convince her inner doubts. Monterrey and Guadalajara looked to be the only two huge cities she would have to deal with.
She measured with her key on the map. It looked like about the same distance from her house to the UP in Michigan. An 8 hour drive in a perfect world. Somehow, she didn't think that would be the case.
"Mom! Autos Usados! Autos Nuevos! There's a car lot ahead." This close to the border, she was hoping to God someone there spoke enough English to help them. Jake had kept Spanish as his High School elective, and she intermittently tried to learn with him, or do online streaming lessons... but without Google Translate? This would be tough. Still in the tourist clothes, they would be looking to scalp her. "Look for a small truck or a Jeep, kiddo. Anything 4 wheel drive and smaller than this monster."
"Ooooooh! Look at that." He exclaimed. It was sweet indeed, but the bright red soft top Wrangler with all the chrome and a slight lift wasn't exactly incognito. "Jake. Think stealth, think old, think we have to eat at some point." He visibly deflated.
A man approached them quickly. "¿Le puedo ayudar Senora" Jake stepped up and said something unintelligable to her other than the no espaniole part. The salesman looked to her, so she grinned apologetically and shrugged. "Stupido Gringa. No dinero, auto? Visa?" He laughed, and lead them toward the back lot, waving another guy over.
"How much "no money" do you have for a car?" The balding one asked her. "I'm looking for 4 wheel drive, under 1000$ US, that will make it to somewhere near Manzanillo." She could see the 'Why me' look on his face. The first Ford Ranger they looked at had far too much oil in the engine compartment, and when she crawled under it, adjusting her skirt and saw the U joints, she immediately said, "I'm not that stupid. Do better by us, or we go somewhere else." A new look of appreciation crossed the mens eyes, and they started to debate a little in Spanish. Her son had wandered off, when suddenly he came trotting back, saying, "I found it." On the lift in the garage was a Wrangler that could only be described as shit-brown in its day, sun bleached on the hood to almost cream. There was surface rust, but it looked solid underneath. She walked under it touching things, and inspecting it. "This is not for sale, I just did some brake work for a local."
"Let me talk to the man," she insisted. "Everything is for sale."
"Luis is not likely to sell, Senora. He needs money, but he needs his Jeep to work."
"Let me talk to the man, let him decide."
An exchange between the two transpired, and the one that did not speak English went into the office. He reappeared with a handsome young man, who looked at the Gringos like they were nuts. "Tell him I will give him $800 cash, and he can have the Monterro Sport I drove in. Tell him!" Suddenly all three were debating in Spanish, the Auto Salesman obviously upset about a sale happening outside of their pockets, but obviously all intrigued. She decided to add, "If you can see to it, we to not swap the plates out? I will give you $50 American for your help." She wanted this, and when her mind was made up, she was a force of nature. They tried to jack the price up, but she stood firm. The problem was running the transaction through their office, since she was going to try and run her Visa through for it, saving her diminishing cash. Sure, it would tip off the Fed's that she had crossed the border, but she figured if she didn't pull that money out somehow within hours of deposit? It would be "goned" anyway. Her son paced impatiently, so she had him start unloading their few possession while she waited. Finally, it seemed the younger man whose Jeep it was made some concession to them, probably part of his pay off for helping him with the deal. He looked less happy, but still pretty satisfied.
As they lowered the hoist and backed it out for them, she asked where she could get workers clothes, not "rich Norte Americano tourist stuff." Her translator gave her a general direction, and had to ask, "You are a most unusual customer. Are you a criminal?" He was only half-joking. "I am a reporter who criticizes the US strongly. Please, please, if anyone asks? I am going to Cancun."
"Oh, you are running from the criminals, si?" He smiled broadly, "Yes, yes, Cancun is very nice place for you!" He winked. "My wife packed some tamales for my lunch. There are too many, perhaps you and your boy would help me and take some with you?" She had to hug him then, and thank him profusely. He explained she need a tourist card and how to get one. There would be a stop to drive beyond town into Mexico that would require this proof. She would be claiming Luis was a friend who lent her the car, so no vehicle permit would be needed. Sometimes good luck and the kindness of strangers was better than the best planning. Walking over a block to get the card, it was delightfully uneventful. More about the $25 bucks than anything.
After a quick stop at the discount store, clothes, sandals, a pup tent and bottled water, they were on their way. It was dry and flat outside of town, her lungs felt crunchy and her lips like they were splitting already. The desert had never been her friend. "Its like Arizona without the smog," she grumbled. But the foothills were already in sight, her next destination was only an hour out now. Her son was already inhaling the tamales down, "These are sooooo good Mom!" He passed her one. In minutes, she was feeling better. The heat and the hunger had obviously darkened her mood for a moment. But now they were on the open road, and wind in her hair felt fine. They skipped the toll road, saving their money, in line with what seemed a million trucks when it hit her.
Her cellphone. GPS. She swerved a little digging it from her purse, throwing it Jake and telling him to pull the battery out completely. Damn, they were less than a half hour out of town and decidedly not traveling toward Cancun. It was a massive error in judgement. "Shit, shit, shit," she cursed aloud, looking up at the sky for drones. "No, we're probably ok, they wouldn't hit us traffic this congested." Her son looked at the map and said, "They'll probably just think we're taking 61 out of Monterray east."
She thought seriously about lobbing it onto the bed of a Northbound truck passing close on the other side of the yellow lines, but somehow her spidey sense told her for emergencies? That phone could be a life-line.
The exchange from 85 to 54 was confusing, but after several blaring honks and a few shaken fists at her idiocy, she managed to make the ramp. It was 5 hours more to Guadalajara, so they traded places. The kid knew Spanish better than she did anyway, and it was a straight shot. She dozed.
"Mom? Mom!" She startled awake, instantly grabbing her phone reflexively. Where the hell were they; this wasn't the freeway, it was dirt. And a vehicle was approaching them at breakneck speeds, its spotlight focused on her kid tumbling back into the driver's seat. Sge reached over and grabbed his wrist lightly as he lunged for the keys, "Don't. Don't move, honest."
Cold sweat broke out under her arms and on her forehead. "I had to pee Mom, and I just drove back until I found bush cover." "Modesty of a 16 year old. What a way to die," she thought, saying nothing. She feared the worst. With her luck it was a drug farm.
For the second time in her life, there was automatic weapons pointed at her head, "I've got this, shhhhh," she hissed through her teeth. She was fumbling to get the battery back into her phone as they approached. Their faces were not covered. This could be a good sign, or a very, very bad sign. Were they honest watchmen, or just sure dead people don't identify people?
"Americano," the burly one glanced at the small man. She felt the vulnerability of the open-aired Jeep. Most of the cash was in her air filter, something she now felt was way too obvious a choice. "My son had to relieve himself, have we done something wrong?"
"This is private land, gringa, very private land. You should not be here."
"I'm so sorry, I was sleeping and he is too shy to go by the road."
"How do we know that? How do we know you aren't trouble for us?"
She kept her face very blank. "If there is a fine to pay for trespassing, I would be happy to pay it here." She reached in her pocket and very slowly pulled out the $40 she had left unhidden. The little one, snatched and growled, nudged the gun closer to her face, "Perhaps the fine is whatever we say it is. Maybe we take the car, eh?" Her son started to speak, and she lifted her hand quickly in the universal Mommy-sign for silence. "Look at my hands senor, I am a hard worker, not a rich woman. These callouses are for working for rich bosses. I cook, I clean, I do yard work. They sent us into Monterray to drop some paperwork off for them. They bring us when they vacation here. I am no one. Please don't do this."
The burly one came around and roughly grabbed her wrist, running his fingers over the callouses there, then brushing his fingertips up her arm with a leer. She jerked back as if bitten. "You have no respect for me as a Mother, working for the life of my son," pointing at the terrified boy. The little one barked something, and the big man retreated.
Not religious at all, she thought to make the sign of the cross, and reached to hold her son's hand. The only other card she could play would up the ante way too far; this had to work.
The little one rifled through the bags sitting next to the cases of bottled water. "I shopped for some work clothes while we were there. You can see it is all cheap. If you take the Jeep they let me use, we lose everything. Our job, our way home, everything..." her voice trailed off in almost a sob. Again, a quick conversation she did not understand. She was glad the thin MacBook Air didn't give itself away pressed flat under the water cases.
"Empty your pockets." He watched as they both turned them inside out. Jake had a few dollars and change. He put his hand out, and the boy's hand trembled a little as he handed it over. "You go now. And you?" He glared at her menacingly, "Should teach him better about going where you do not belong."
"I will. I will drive from now on. Gracias, senor, muchos gracias."
They traded sides, and she tried not to throw gravel in her haste to leave, not wanting to give them a reason to change their mind. The headlights followed them back to the main road. He had traveled almost a half mile back. She did have to teach him better, she decided. As she hit the pavement, turning and burning it, he started, "I'm sorry Mom, oh my God, I'm so sorry!" She cut him off. "Its my fault. You didn't know. How could you know? I should have taught you better, warned you. I'm so sorry I got you into this," she sighed. The dim light of her smart phone still glowed. "Now, what I need you to do, is throw that phone under the wheels of the next big truck that goes by." He looked at her questioningly. "You turned it on? I didn't even notice. Does that mean they can find us? Drug dealers, now what? Our government? Will they chase us this far?" His nervousness was showing in his babble. "Just do it, do it now!"
She didn't know. Her back-up plan was to show them the laptop, show them she was a reporter wanted by the feds. Tell them the GPS in her phone would either lead the Federales there should it stop there, directly to them, or perhaps even call in a drone strike. Somehow she would convince them that they had to let her and that phone drive all the trouble, her trouble away from them. It had not come to that, but now she had exposed herself. She never had the GPS on, but heard that they could track it even inactive. Who knew for sure? As she explained all that to her son, he calmed from the sound of her voice, and the fact she had so many instant plans going in her head at once. "I hate to say this? But you are a really good liar. By the time you were done talking I was ready to go to Church and half-believed we did work for a couple nearby." She laughed, "I wouldn't call it lying so much as acting." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You're gooood, though."
They had lost light from dusk to darkness in the time their little excursion took, and decided to stop for the night before the reached Guadalajara proper. Huge city driving was frustrating enough, doubly so when the signs may as well been in Greek to her. She had no idea what suburb she was in, when she pulled off and found a small motel for the night. They walked up the street and bought a couple tacos to take back to the room from a vendor just closing up for the evening.
The cable station showed images of what they were calling a Civil War in US. It was heartbreaking to see, and she felt helpless and guilty for not being there. They would have to find an internet cafe in the morning before they got back on the road. She had been incommunicado so long, and wondered how her friends were faring, or if they thought her dead.
They both slept the sleep of the dead, emotionally and physically drained.
Morning dawned the bright and clear of higher elevations. The city was huge in her eyes, more so since unlike Detroit, the terrain of rising and falling, rimmed by mountains made so much more of it visible. She loved the old architecture mixed in with the new; people from the US had so little sense of history. Even in Detroit they let old buildings fall to ruin, or razed them for some new monstrosity. As she took off towards it on surface streets, she told her son, "Ok, time to put on my big girl panties and brave the city." He chuckled, "The woman doesn't bat an eye with an AK pointed at her head, but gets all shaken and trembling over city driving." Smartass kids, but he was right and she knew it.
They looked for a place to eat breakfast that had wifi. There were even McDonald's if worse came to worst, but she did not relish the idea of eating that slime. They passed a cafe with nice little outdoor tables with a wifi sign, but had to drive two more blocks to park and walk back to it. They put the top up on the Jeep again, and locked it up. Huevos. That much she knew. Its amazing how much you can pantomime when you don't know the language. Carne was meat, but how to say pork, bacon, sausage, anything? Oh well, she decided to point at a customer's plate nearby and then at her and her kid, and say "Dos, aqui, por favor?" The young girl smiled patiently, and went to place their order. The wifi had a password prompt. She looked up and typed in the name of the cafe, that was how it usually worked in the US. "Gah! Its not working!" He son reached over, fiddled around a bit and handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow. "Your keyboard was in English, it didn't get the tildes and stuff. I switched it, typed it, then switched it back for you."
"You are a God!" she smiled at him.
She hit her political FB page first; told them she and Jake were safe, at an undisclosed location. Immediately, the replies started coming in from people who had been questioned about her. She found one of her friends was still in custody. Another ally had his house droned in Canada. No one knew if he had been home at the time, no one knew if he was alive. "Have your laptop swiped clean and reinstalled - they may still get your I/P address from anywhere." That was the last thing she read before shutting it down.
It was only 3 hours or so to her destination. "They were not out of the woods yet," she thought at they found and reentered the freeway. "Not by a long shot..."
(to be continued)